


Comfort (One-Shots)

by bad_pheasants



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Conlanging, F/F, Femslash February 2019, Kryptonian Culture & Customs, Kryptonian Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bad_pheasants/pseuds/bad_pheasants
Summary: Started as a project for Femslash February, for the prompt “Alex tries to comfort Kara”.Mostly Kara/Alex. Potentially poly.





	1. Comfort, Part 1: The Roof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piece the first: For the prompt “Kara is having a bad time and Alex tries to comfort her. It doesn’t work right away.” Sorry for the delay on this, I’m hoping this will help me space the scenarios out better. :P Hope you’re feeling better, friend. 
> 
> This one’s gonna be a multi-chap piece.

It happens every year. Alex knows it when it happens, and she knows there’s not much she can do, especially leading up to it. But she does anyway.

Alex can’t fly, but thanks to Winn’s magnetic wizardry, she can jump or climb to the roof of their apartment building. Ordinarily, she frowns on using her DEO equipment for civilian things. Now is one of those times where she makes an exception for that. 

Kara is sitting small and slouched in the shadow of one of the air vents, staring out at the stars. She doesn’t react when Alex lands, although Alex thinks that was a pretty good landing, if she does say so herself. Alex pads over to Kara and sits down next to her, careful to leave a few inches between them. She turns and looks out at the stars, too. 

This, too, is familiar; although it’s not shingles under their feet anymore, and the roof is flat, not slanted, with the gentle rumble of the HVAC units instead of the distant sound of the ocean. The stars are fainter, hazy with light pollution and atmospheric pollution. Alex isn’t sure how Kara would make out Rao in these conditions, but she also doesn’t ask. 

Gradually, Kara scoots until she’s leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder, Alex’s arm around her back, hair pressed warm against Alex’s jaw. Alex squeezes her gently. Kara might not feel like she belongs on this planet, but she does belong _here_ , with Alex. 

She just hates that that splits Kara in two like this. Sometimes, Alex thinks, Kara feels like it’d be easier if she only ever belonged _there_ , because then, she could just belong nowhere, and not have to feel like she was betraying them by being happy again, or feel torn when this place asks her to do things the Kryptonian parts of her find unconscionable. 

Kara rearranges herself gradually, but eventually, Alex feels a liquid chill on her neck, the faint tickle of something running slowly down her skin. 

Alex closes her eyes and squeezes Kara tighter.


	2. Comfort, Part 2: The Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara calls Clark, and Alex is there to pick up the pieces after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whee, I’m already behind! :DDDD Thanks to everyone who’s listened to me complain about being sick, and reassured me that the things I wrote made them feel feelings.

Alex is annoyed that it took Clark so long to think of this—but then, he’s always lone-wolfing it, and getting away with it. 

These days, Kara has a phone that she can use to call Clark. It’s secure, or as secure as these things can be, and even if someone is eavesdropping, Alex is satisfied they’ve scrambled the signal enough that without the right equipment, the phone call would be gibberish. 

Secure enough for the once-or-twice-a-year call that Kara makes to talk to him in Kryptonian. 

They’re already on the phone when Alex gets home, and Alex stays in the other room, Netflix running in the background to try to give them some privacy. She can picture it, though—Kara sitting on the edge of her bed, picking at the stitching in her comforter, smiling just enough that it comes across on the phone. Correcting his pronunciation, or praising him when he gets it right. And she knows Clark well enough to know he’s glowing with the praise, and Lois is probably waiting on the other end to make fun of him. 

Alex can’t restrain a little smirk at that thought. 

Kara comes back out maybe forty-five minutes later, and she doesn’t look unhappy, but she does look _exhausted_. Alex gestures to the pizza box on the coffee table—fresh, untouched—and Kara’s eyes flutter with what might be relief. 

Alex doesn’t bother reminding Kara to eat at human speed, and she finishes the whole box to herself—sans one piece for Alex—in about two minutes. She lets out a huge sigh, not quite relief, leaning on her thighs, looking over the table like she’s surveying the damage, but also, like she’s barely seeing any of the world around her. She looks over and makes eye contact with Alex, and again—it’s like she barely sees Alex, and her acknowledging nod is on autopilot. 

Kara sways towards Alex, and Alex opens her arm, accepting Kara’s weight against her side, letting her bear them both down onto the couch, landing against the pillows. Alex lets the fingers of one hand drag lazily up and down Kara’s back. 

“I’m grateful he’s alive,” Kara says into Alex’s shoulder after a moment. Alex continues to run her hands up and down Kara’s back, soothing, feeling the tension in her muscles, not sure if what might happen if it breaks is better. “I’m grateful he’s alive. Right?” 

Alex plants a kiss vaguely on the top of Kara’s head. “Of course you are,” Alex murmurs into her hair. “Missing what could’ve been isn’t ungrateful.” 

Every time she says that, she reminds herself to bring Eliza flowers, or go home and help her with cleaning out the shed. 

What, you thought _Alex_ was smart enough to come up with that on her own? For all that Alex’s relationship with Eliza has been strained over the years, her mother has a remarkable gift for turning Alex’s problems into straightforward truths. 

“I don’t even know what that is.” Kara’s voice has a telltale quaver in it. 

Alex knows, though. In her own not-so-smart way. 

_Not this._

Not Alex’s thumbs aching as she presses down as hard as Kara likes it when things get overwhelming while Kara sniffles and wraps her arms around Alex’s back and curls into her, shaking but not crying, not quite. Not—sprawled on top of some random (in the grand scheme of things) human who only grudgingly accepted Kara into her life in the first place, in a dim apartment while the sun goes down, in human clothes, with a mostly-human life, lived on mostly human terms, far, far away from her only living family. 

Far away from Clark, in more ways than one.

It’s not that Kara doesn’t love her, or being Supergirl, or, sometimes, her job at CatCo. It’s not that she hates that Clark is happy and alive. 

It’s just hard, being the only one left, when you’re not technically the only one left. 

They linger in the shadowy space between evening and nighttime, with the air full of ghosts, and Alex has plenty of her own: 

_Not a grave in Midvale with a headstone but no body. Not_ ”Agent Danvers” _instead of_ ”Doctor Danvers”. _Not the empty place along Alex’s wall for the surfboard that Alex left in a dumpster years ago. Not broken bones and scars that Alex has to work diligently to prevent adhesions from forming in. Not_ sister. 

There’s nothing ungrateful about missing the better life you lost, or mourning the life you wanted. The one you should’ve had, or the simpler one. Alex has to believe that. She’s going on thirty years old, and—her mother told her that. 

She hangs onto that, and Kara. She has to.


End file.
